The cheerful pessimist

I like this passage from an interview Mike Cromartie once did with William F. Buckley:

[Cromartie:]This is interesting, because you once described yourself as a philosophical pessimist who remained a temperamental optimist. Let me put it this way and see if you agree: Your philosophical pessimism is rooted in your belief in the fallenness of our human nature. And your temperamental optimism is rooted in God's sovereignty and God's ability to take chaos and bring renewal and revival in the world.

I think that's fair, but I would add to that a sort of personal ebulliency that sustains me. I'm likelier to say that the bottle is half full than half empty.

Do you think that is rooted in a religious confidence?

No, I don't think so. For example, Malcolm Muggeridge always talked about how Christendom was something that had ended--that we are now in effect back in the subterranean channels, having to do it all over again. And yet he was also, by nature, very happy and amusing. I should like to think that the inherent vibrancy of Christianity is waiting to be understood and appreciated. Mind you, I move among a set of people who are the intelligentsia. They are among the most deprived. If one were moving among most other sets of people, one would feel less loneliness in this matter. It is one thing to consult only with the faculty of Yale but quite another to consult the Civic Council of Columbus, Ohio. Christianity is more likely to be a staple part of their lives.

I think that's where I am, pretty much. My intellectual preoccupation with decline and fall has to do with my intense interest in history, culture and ideas -- and the fact that I'm a journalist who sits in a newsroom all day and interacts with the world primarily in that way. It never makes the papers or the wires, or even the blogs, when there is a small victory for truth, goodness and beauty on Maple Street at 11:15 a.m. We only hear about the bad, or disruptive, things that happen. It's the nature of the news biz, and it shapes the way I think, or at least the things I think about.

Besides, I don't know how one can be a traditional Christian and a traditional conservative and not be pessimistic about the times. Perhaps that was always true.

But on a personal level, I'm much more ebullient, and enthusiastic. How could I not be? As long as people are still singing the liturgy, writing books and making art and children, there is hope, and there is truth, goodness and beauty in the world. My idea of a good time is to cook a pot of gumbo, open a six-pack of Abita (or two) and sit around the table telling funny stories with good friends, and in so doing shoring up fragments against the ruin. Or to put it another way, yeah, the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but hey, let's eat, drink and be merry, and see if we can't figure out what to do about it (or at least have a laugh).

Julie laughs at me because whenever there's a report of an ice storm or some other weather calamity on the way, my first instinct is to check the liquor cabinet and get out the black iron pot, go to cooking, and start thinking about who to invite over to hang out with us. Maybe it's the south Louisiana guy in me -- we come from a state where everything is always going to hell, but we sure know how to enjoy life -- but there's little more pleasurable and satisfying than gathering around the table with good friends, good food, and strong drink, and riding out the storm together. That's the spirit that informs this blog, or that I hope does.